Perfect as a Picture
by SuperGirlWrites
Summary: Quinn Fabray comes out as gay and the news shatters Rachel Berry's view of the invincible born-again Christian woman. She starts to question everything she once believed in, including her on and off again relationship with Finn. Will she be able to accept reality, or will she choose the picture perfect life she's always wanted?


**A/N: I have never written a femslash or faberry story before, so please let me know what you think. This was inspired by the true story of a close friend of mine. The same friend who introduced me to Glee, and the Faberry fandom. All reviews, good and bad, are welcome. I might make this a chapter story if you guys want me to. Enjoy**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

* * *

**Perfect As a Picture**

There's a picture in Rachel Berry's bedroom of a couple she's never met before.

It is poised on her white bedside table and has several burn marks around it's edges. The only thing that keeps the old picture held together is tape. Cheap tape. The not-so-invisible-but-claims-to-be-invisible kind of tape.

In the picture, the woman is absolutely stunning. Her dark brown catlike eyes sparkle with a youthful vigor most people lack today and her long brown hair cascades elegantly over her left pale white shoulder. She belongs on Broadway and the way her crisp black dress outlines her womanly curves further proves this point. Standing next to the woman is a slightly taller and dashing young man with wavy black hair and a prominent nose much like Rachel's own nose. His black suit coordinates well with the woman's dress and his golden brown eyes are narrowed with joking mischief. His arms are wrapped tightly around the woman's waist with one hand covering her ballooning belly.

You can tell they are madly in love.

On the back it says that the picture was taken on December 15, 1985, two days before Rachel Berry was born. The names on the back of the picture read Shelby and Adam Corcoran.

They are her birth parents and that's the only picture she has of them.

Right now, sitting across from the beautiful Quinn Fabray in a dimly lit restaurant, Rachel feels like she's been staring at a picture of Quinn all her life rather than talking to the person behind the name and gorgeous face.

Because this certainly is a shock.

The New York vegan restaurant is decently crowded for a Sunday evening, and Quinn looks absolutely stunning in her knee length blue dress with her blonde hair hanging in choppy curls framing her sharp features well. Her disposition however wreaks nervousness as she plays with her salad, her eyes burning a hole through each piece of lettuce her fork touches.

Rachel opened her dry mouth to speak but ended up gaping. She shakily reached for some water and downed most of it in one gulp. "So..." Rachel cleared her throat and Quinn snapped her head up, hazel eyes piercing dark brown. "You're… gay?" she asked tentatively. She waited several tense and odd seconds for Quinn to answer. She expected to be slapped for saying such a thing.

Quinn paused, her fork midair, then nodded slowly. "Yes Rachel." She twirled her fork down mainly for the purpose of doing something with her hands. "I'm gay," she confirmed. "I like girls."

Rachel shuffled uncomfortably in her seat. All the eloquent words she learned in college didn't exist in her mind at that moment. She's clueless and confused. This all must be one big joke. She's waiting for cameras to pop out and Ashton Kutcher to yell "You've just been punked!"

None of that happens.

Quinn Fabray _can't_ be gay. She just… can't. She's too… Christian and just… no. She got pregnant at sixteen for Pete's sake!

"Say something."

The words are whispered urgently under Quinn's breath and Rachel blinked away the haze when she hears them.

"What do you—what do you want me to say Quinn?" Rachel asked helplessly. "I mean, I support you, _of course_ I support you, but I'm just… a little…"

Quinn raised her eyebrows. "Shocked?"

"Yeah," Rachel chuckled awkwardly. "Just a little." That was the understatement of the year.

Quinn looked momentarily surprised but disguised it by finally eating some of her salad. She held her hand over her mouth as she spoke. "I don't understand why," she said around her food.

Rachel frowned. "What did you say?"

Quinn finished chewing before answering. "I don't understand why you're surprised."

Rachel's mouth dropped open and her eyes grew wide. "_Seriously_ Quinn? For as long as I've known you, you've dated men and _only_ men. You had a baby at sixteen. You're a freaking born again Christian!" she hissed, waving her hands around for emphasis. "So please tell me Quinn on what planet do all of _those_ circumstances make someone _gay_."

Quinn looked amused if the slight twitch in her upper lip was anything to go by. Rachel was not amused. "You forgot to mention that I had a one night stand with Santana almost ten years ago."

Rachel snorted unattractively. "Since when do one night stands ever really count?"

"Oh, I don't know, maybe when you're '_completely_'," Quinn air-quoted, "straight and your one night stand is with your best friend who is also a girl? I think that counts for something Rachel."

_She has a point there_, Rachel mentally conceded. "Still! All other evidence would point to you being—"

"If you're basing things off of _evidence_ Rachel," Quinn drawled, "then you _really_ shouldn't be surprised that I'm gay."

Rachel was flabbergasted. She was usually good at reading people, or at least, she's _grown_ to be good at reading people. It's one of the reasons why she's has an Oscar and two Grammy's under her belt.

"Does Finn know?" Rachel.

Quinn took a sip of her chai latte before answering. "No," she replied simply. "But I suppose he will now that I'm telling you."

"What?" Rachel crossed her arms defensively. "You don't think I can keep a secret Fabray?"

Quinn sighed, irritation leaking out through her breath. For the life of her, Rachel couldn't understand why Quinn was so upset. She wasn't the one finding out world tilting news here. Get the roles straight Quinn.

No pun intended.

"It's not a secret Rachel," she enunciated carefully. "I'm not ashamed of my sexuality. I just know how much like a seesaw your relationship with Finn is. By the way, are you guys on or—"

"We're on."

Quinn rolled her eyes and stabbed some of her salad. "Of course you are," she mumbled. "You know what." She dropped her fork onto the plate with a clink. "I'm not hungry anymore."

"Quinn I'm sorry if I—"

"It's not your fault Rachel," Quinn said, waving the waiter over and getting the bill. "I honestly just wanna get drunk right now, not eat."

"Quinn," Rachel gasped and leaned across the table, both palms face down on the smooth wooden surface. "You cannot drink and drive. It's against the law!"

Quinn looked up as she finished paying the bill with a smirk on her face. "Who said I was going to drink and drive Berry?"

* * *

"This," Quinn raised the bottle of whisky sloppily, "is disgusting." She twisted her nose to emphasize her disgust with the drink, but drunk more from the bottle anyway.

Quinn was two bottles past intoxicated and Rachel felt slightly nervous that she had a drunk person on her hands. Drunk people have never been her forte. She sipped some of her water and watched Quinn's glassy eyes survey her own kitchen like she's never seen it before.

It's a part of Quinn's apartment. Rachel's pretty sure she's seen it before.

Quinn giggled and swayed but stopped when she almost slipped off the stool. "I think we should move to the uh…" She frowned and gestured to the cream colored couch in her living room. "To the… the thing… what's it called?"

"The couch?" Rachel filled in.

"Yes!" Quinn snapped her fingers and grinned. She almost pushed Rachel off the stool as she jumped up and stumbled her way to the couch. She collapsed onto, face first, it with two thumbs up. "Hi couch," she laughed.

Rachel stayed seated in the kitchen and watched the green glowing numbers on the stove anxiously. She had to go to the studio to finish recording a song early tomorrow morning, and it was already midnight. She sighed and got up from the stool at the island in the kitchen.

Quinn's apartment was lovely. It reminded Rachel of the beach with its airy feel, light green and brown colors, and big windows. But right now, Rachel needed to get home. Finn would be worried sick if she didn't.

"Baaaaaaby," Quinn whined, rolling her body around so that she was no longer buried in cushions and lolling her head so that she could see Rachel. "Come here, Quinn misses you."

Rachel walked into the living room, prepared to tell Quinn goodbye, when two long arms wrapped around her neck and a taller body crashed into her, sending them both tumbling down onto the couch.

"Quinn," Rachel groaned and gently patted Quinn's back. "I got to go now."

"Nooooooooooo," was Quinn's muffled response. "No. No, no, no. You can't leave me."

"Quinn—"

"I need you baby."

"Quinn, sweetie."achel pulled away from the blonde only to have Quinn snuggle into her side and entangle their legs. "Quinn, _please_ let me get up."

Quinn opened her eyes to look at Rachel, who was momentarily thrown off by how dark the hazel pair were. "I've always loved you," Quinn whispered, her mouth ghosting over Rachel's ear and her glassy eyes searching Rachel's. "I'm in love with you right now too. Every day I fall deeper in love with you. Did you know that?"

Rachel shivered. This wasn't right. She had to get away from Quinn. "Quinn, let me go," she demanded calmly.

"Why don't you love me Rach?" Quinn asked huskily, tears slipping out of her eyes. "Why?"

Rachel couldn't believe she was even entertaining the idea of having a conversation with a drunk person. But here she was. "I do love you Quinn."

"Then let's make love," Quinn said urgently.

Before Rachel knew it, Quinn's hands were on her cheeks pulling her in for a kiss. Rachel panicked, her breath lodged solid in her throat, and her arms frozen by her side when soft lips touched their destination. Her heart pounded unusually fast as she tried to get Quinn off of her, but Quinn wouldn't budge.

Quinn, content as all get out, forced her tongue into Rachel's mouth and moaned when she got entrance. Rachel could taste the old whiskey on Quinn's tongue and grimaced. She reluctantly gave up wrestling with the drunk girl and fell back onto the couch, Quinn laying ontop of her.

When breathing became too much of a necessity, Quinn pulled away, her hazel eyes full blown and dilated and her breathing coming out in pants.

"I love you so much Rachel," Quinn whispered, hovering directly over Rachel with little space in-between. She threaded her fingers through long brown hair, moving some behind Rachel's ear. "_So_ much," she whispered. "You just _don't know_." She leaned in again, but Rachel put her hands firmly on Quinn's shoulders, effectively pushing her away.

"We need to stop Quinn. I can't—I don't—I'm not..." She shook her head and sighed. "I'm with Finn and I don't cheat."

"But Rach," Quinn leaned down and purred into Rachel's ear, "one night stands don't count."

"We'll regret it in the morning."

Quinn smiled softly and brought her head up so that it was centimeters from Rachel's. "I won't."

"I will!" she exclaimed.

As soon the words were out of her mouth, Rachel regretted them. Quinn sobered up immediately, her smile fading from her face as she gazed earnestly at Rachel. "You would regret making love to me?" she asked.

"Quinn I'm not…" Rachel bit her lip, trying and failing to hold back the onslaught of raw emotions she was feeling. She had never felt so… sad before. Just hearing Quinn's downtrodden voice broke her in half. "I'm not gay Quinn. I don't like girls like that, okay?" She raised her eyebrows, trying to make Quinn understand. "I love you." She paused to make sure Quinn was listening. She probably wouldn't remember this conversation in the morning anyways. "But only as a friend."

Quinn's eyes fluttered shut at the words and she shook her head fervently. She grasped onto Rachel's shirt and burrowed her head into the crook of Rachel's neck.

That night, Rachel realized Quinn Fabray was nothing like she portrayed herself to be. She was much like the picture sitting on Rachel's nightstand. She had burn marks on her edges, and secrets on her back. Her picture portrayed something ideally perfect, but reality is sadly not even close.


End file.
